So it begins. March came sooner than expected and somehow not soon enough. As emotions mixed between eagerness to press on and sadness to let go, we formed our itinerary with Auckland and the airport being the final destination. Our New Zealand bucket list had fortunately grown small. At the time of departing Dunedin there were only three things left. The first two were north island spots we didn’t fully get to enjoy on the way down. The third still alludes us today: Abel Tasman. Abel Tasman is a national park located at the north part of the south island and slightly to the west. We were meant to go backpacking there, but its nine hour drive time from Dunedin and our thinning pocket book forced us to regrettably pass. We had done so with the thought that on our way out of New Zealand we could visit for a day or two before taking the ferry to Wellington. This never happened either. Through a series of unimportant and frankly dull decision making that I won’t bore you with, we decided to fly from Dunedin to Wellington, rent a car, and drive to Auckland from there. This decision left out Abel Tasman once more mostly in favor of saving money. One day, you’ll be mine.
One of the things we did manage to conquer were the Putangirua Pinnacles. It’s a site just outside of Wellington that we, on our way down initially, were unable to fully investigate because of heavy amounts of rainfall the days before. The hike is essentially along a stream bed, the pinnacles stretching overhead. This is hard to do when the stream isn’t dry. For our second try, however, the conditions were perfect. The pinnacles are towering rocks formed over thousands of years of erosion, rising sea levels, melting ice, and lowering sea levels, then a few more thousand years of rain and wind. They tower above you like gothic spires or perhaps like something out of an Antoni Gaudi nightmare. Admittedly, these geological wonders are made even more awesome because they played the role of the Paths of the Dead in The Return of the King. Even if that weren’t the case, however, there is something naturally eerie when walking through them and its descriptors such as ‘badlands’ and ‘hoodoos’ don’t help. But yes, I did feel like a member of the Fellowship as I marched upwards, camera unsheathed, and my boyhood self on full display. Our unintentional Lord of the Rings tour continues in part II.
